


The Night Watch

by RubberLotus



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:20:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberLotus/pseuds/RubberLotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of what might have been, the first night that the Straw Hat Pirates' archaeologist came onboard...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Watch

Your first night on the ship, and they've already added your name to the lookout duty raffle.

When your name is drawn, the cook naturally objects ("HOW DARE YOU SHITHEADS MAKE SUCH A FAIR LADY EXPOSE HERSELF TO THE ELEMENTS!"), but you convince him otherwise. He instantly changes his mind with a pirouette that Mr. 2 would have been jealous of.

The doctor's objections are more timid, but also more logical. Perhaps you still need time to recover from the little parting gift that Crocodile had given you in Alubarna's royal tombs? You shake your head and tell the little pirate that you've recovered enough, but thanks for the concerns anyway, and he squirms out of the room with that adorable dance of his.

Such a funny bunch.

With a tired smile, you huddle down in the crow's nest. Your only companions now are a blanket, a steaming mug of cocoa, and the starlit (until the next storm decides to blow in) sky.

And a notebook.

You slide a pencil no longer than your thumb out of your sleeve, and tap it against your lip. With your other hand, you flip open the notebook and look at what you've gathered on your latest crewmates.

Six names. You've heard of pirate crews who'd operated on even fewer men, but they'd never lasted long. Especially not on the Grand Line.

Perhaps this crew was merely the exception that proved the rule.

All the more reason to be prepared.

You scan the six names up and down, a single, ancient maxim running through your head.

_Remove the weakest from play first._

You'd learned it before you'd even heard of Baroque Works. Such a simple piece of wisdom.

But implementing it is anything but simple here, mostly because of one question.

_Who exactly **is**  the weakest here?_

It takes you several minutes to decide that the doctor occupies that unenviable position. He is not the weakest, physically speaking, but he is not the strongest. He might have more common sense than his companions in times of peace, but when push comes to shove, he's the quickest to lose all his wits.

(Silently, you make a note to read up on the skeletal structures of reindeer when you get the chance.)

You then discover, to your mild frustration, that the choice of second-weakest is actually even harder to make.

The gunner and self-elected interrogator isn't as strong as the doctor, and is about as brave, but he  _has_  surrounded himself with a rather nasty little arsenal. Even after twenty years of practice with your abilities, you  _still_  despise fighting snipers; a sufficiently-skilled one - or just a lucky one - could cave your head in before you even knew he was there, and no amount of conjured hands or eyes or ears could stop that.

(You resolve to never let him get more than fifty feet away from you, should it come to that.)

Then, there was the navigator. Despite her frequent displays of temper, she might very well be the most level-headed person in the crew. And no matter how she'd acted when you'd handed her (a fraction of) Crocodile's personal treasury, you know that she doesn't fully trust you yet. But in terms of muscle, she seems even lower than the gunner; much of her combat ability seems to come from that strange blue staff the gunner had made for her.

(Knock the staff to the ground, and one twist of the neck should end it. You're not a cruel person.)

A sip of cocoa inevitably turns your mind towards the cook who had brewed it. Superficially speaking, you know that he's been the warmest of all your new crewmates, but you haven't forgotten what "Mr. Prince" had done back in Alabasta. He might turn into a puddle of goo at the sight of a pretty face, but he has a spymaster's intellect and legs that can knock a bananawani unconscious, and you'd really rather not wait to see what would happen if he were forced to choose between his beloved  _Nami-san_  and  _Robin-chwan_.

(This is the first time you suspect that extra hands alone might not be enough. The cook is a tough one, and you've already gone up against foes who'd laughed off your attempts to break their necks or crack their spines. A pinch of cyanide in his tea would be the ideal solution.)

Now there are only two. The captain and his unofficial first mate.

The first mate is the only one who doesn't trust you and has made no attempts to hide it. He's at least as tough as the cook - probably tougher, if the reports that he'd actually cut straight  _through_  Daz Bones in Alubarna are to be believed. But like some iron law of nature, his intellect (or lack thereof) balances it out. The man isn't as patient or perceptive as he'd like to believe, and his crewmates' stories about him getting lost in a straight hallway sound too sincere to be exaggerations.

(He's the kind who likes to think that his swords are part of him, but in the end, they're only pieces of metal. By now, you've turned more swords against their masters - throats, hearts, stomachs - than you can count. His won't be any different. Hopefully.)

That leaves the captain.

Monkey D. Luffy is the second  _D_  you've met in person, and you can't help but despise him a little for how easily he stirs up your memories of the first. It's childish of you, you know - you've been hounded by memories of Saul before you ever saw that straw hat - but you can't get your brain to stop.

His Devil fruit abilities seem tailor-made to counteract your own. No amount of twisting will break his bones. No amount of squeezing will crush his windpipe. You briefly consider tying him up with his own limbs, but decide against it; his body may be rubber, but its nature is to snap back as quickly as possible. Such a tactic wouldn't be time-efficient, and time means everything against a man as fast as that.

As for his intellect... well,  _stupid_  would be the easy way to describe it, but it wouldn't be the whole story. His optimism knows no bounds, true, and he shows a remarkable disinterest in anything not related to adventures or meat, but there is a strange ingenuity in him that you've seen in few people to begin with, and none who prided themselves on their intelligence.

(You think back to "Mizu Luffy" and almost choke on the laughter again. You scowl and bite your lip to keep the memory down.)

Above all, the boy is tenacious - what man with the name of  _D_  isn't? Tenacious enough to have been almost killed by Crocodile twice and come back for more. And strangely forgiving as well; pulling you out of the Alubarna mausoleum can be written off as an eye for an eye, but letting you join his crew without a word of complaint?

( _"Don't worry, guys! She's not a bad person!"_ )

You can't even remember the last time you tried to feed yourself that delusion.

(There is always the classic way of dealing with a Devil fruit user - tossing him into the sea - but will that work for someone who practically has tow-lines for arms? He has less power in the water, but you have absolutely  _none_.)

No, what occupies the captain's head is not pure stupidity, but it  _is_  probably close enough to not matter. You're not sure whether you could actually survive in a fight against him, but the simplest subterfuge would work wonders. From what his crewmates report, he almost gets himself killed  _by accident_  about twice a day.

(A lie. Not particularly important what. Just something to keep him distracted, then tip him over the edge of his beloved ship.)

Yes, you decide as you jot down the last few words by the captain's name. That will do.

When you look over the names again, your eyes start to burn. Exhaustion, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

Okay, maybe a little more.

Despite popular opinion, there  _are_  a handful of crews who've known your company and sailed away largely unscathed, and you  _do_  hope that the Straw Hat Pirates will be one of them. But if worse comes to worst - as it almost always did - you'll dispose of those you deem necessary of disposal, leave the rest behind, and then...

And then...

And then...?

And then keep searching for something you have no leads for. Search for something you've already given up on.

Wait, no, that's not quite right. If you've given up, then you wouldn't be here, right? Right?

If you've given up, you've had nearly a week to finish the job that Crocodile started. There were scalpels in Alubarna's royal hospital wing. There are ropes on this very ship. There's the sea all around you.

Or is the almighty Nico Robin above such paltry mortal things as suicide?

You take another sip of the cocoa. All you taste is cold, muddy water.

Numbly, you rise.

The blanket tumbles from your shoulders, but you don't feel a speck of difference.

You shut the notebook without looking at another word, and begin to climb down from the crow's nest, wondering how long you will have to leave your post to fetch a candle from the galley.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for my good LiveJournal friend, sara-tanaquil. Everyone go check out her One Piece recap series. Right now.
> 
> (The actual inspiration for this story came from a good many sources, but in terms of visuals, it undoubtedly owes the most to the anime's ninth ending, "Free Will".)


End file.
